The Hairs of Angels and Paintbrushes
by LovelyLittleLark
Summary: Grantaire paints Enjolras, they fall in love. Things happen between that, I suppose. Oh! And fem!jolras and fem!taire


Well, it was certainly one way to spend a Sunday. She hadn't thought anything would really come of putting her name, number and email address on a slip of paper and shoving it in a jar. Nobody ever even _won_ those contests, right? They were just a trick to find more people to spam with emails. Yet here she was, standing at the door of an old, crappy looking apartment building sandwiched between new condos and a run-down antique shop. She had rung the buzzer four times and was now pondering what Courfeyrac had found in the slogan "Win and I'll paint you" that had interested her enough to make Enjolras write down semi-personal information and give it to a-possibly homicidal-stranger. Just as she was about to turn around and go home, the or opened up to a sloppily dressed woman in her twenties.

"What the fuck are you doing here at this hour? Who are you?" Enjolras stopped and turned around slowly, taking in the woman. She had disastrously messy dark brown hair, and a nose that had been broken one too many times. She was not what was considered conventionally attractive, but her eyes were a stormy jade green that left Enjolras staring. She shook herself and opened her mouth to respond when she was interrupted.

"Wait, please tell me you're the person that won the contest. You're so beautiful that if you say no I may cry." Enjolras cleared her throat.

"I'm Enjolras. Did I get the date wrong or-"

"Oh, god, no. I just got far too hammered last night. So thats how you say your name, huh? Your parents must've hated you." She must have seen Enjolras flinch, because her eyes widened with horror. "Ah, shit, bad area, sorry. I'm R, if you hadn't already guessed. Do you wanna," she grimaced, looking behind her, "do you wanna come in? The place is a sty, but it's not as goddamned bright. Though god, your hair is fucking angelic in the sun and I'm rambling." She took a deep breath. "Come on in." she gestured behind her and got out of the way. Enjolras took a deep breath of her own and walked in.

She was right. The place was a sty. Empty bottles and dirty dishes littered every available surface, with books and paintbrushes filling in the empty spaces. She carefully stepped over dirty clothes and half-finished canvases, trying to catch up with R, who was easily maneuvering through the mess. She followed the other woman to a room dominated by canvases, cloth, and paint.

"You can sit here. I'm going to drink some water and down a pill bottle." She gestured vaguely at the room, and Enjolras managed to find a chair beneath several cans of paint.

R came back in, looking slightly better and far more awake. She went to the back of the room and pulled away a large cloth, letting bright gold sunlight into the room. She winced visibly. "I knew I was gonna regret that," she turned around, looking at her. The sudden smile was more blinding than the light. "Worth it though. God, look at you! You're a fucking angel Aphrodite!" Enjolras scowled.

"I think you may have your mythologies mixed up."

"No one deity can describe you, surely." Enjolras rolled her eyes at the cheesy response.

"We should get to painting, shouldn't we?"

"I should be allowed to study my subject, shouldn't I? Your hair alone will take hours of close observation."

"If you ask to touch it I'll kick you out your own goddamn house." Grantaire raised her hands in defense.

"I'd never ask a black woman to touch her hair. I just want to paint it." Enjolras scoffed.

"Please, your'e just wondering if it's bleached."

"Like my hair's natural?" she tugged at the brown.

"Mine is." Enjolras snarled.

"Woah, Miss Touchy. I know you probably get these questions all the time, but you were the one who brought them up."

Enjolras slumped in her chair. "Sorry. Most people-"

"Yeah, most people would. Like I said, I just want to paint you." Enjolras looked up, and R was smiling. "I'm only an asshole _most_ of the time."

"Not sure I believe you." Enjolras said, smirking. She sat up straight again. "You gonna paint me or what?"

* * *

She sat there for what seemed like hours, trying not to move and regretting it when she did, wincing under Grantaire's glare. Finally, R stood up and stretched, gesturing for Enjolras to do the same. She did, with a groan that made her blush. The other woman blushed, but led her out of the cluttered room.

"So I've got the sketching down, can you come next week at the same time so I can start painting?" R scratched the back of her head nervously.

"Sure, why not?" Enjolras replied, and R brightened visibly.

"Hey, do you want to get-" she paused, looking at her wrist, then around the room once she realized she wasn't wearing a watch, "food?" she finished sheepishly.

Enjolras paused. Sunday meant that Combeferre didn't have a shift at the hospital, and they usually hung out. But Grantaire fascinated her, what little she knew of the artist. She wanted to know more. She looked up at R, and the poorly concealed hopeful expression decided it for her.

"Yeah, sure. Just let me tell my friends I'll be gone longer than I thought."

* * *

"Enjolras has a da-ate!" Courfeyrac squealed, loud enough that she could hear through Combeferre's phone.

"It is _not_ a date!" Enjolras whispered furiously, leaning her forehead against R's bathroom wall. "I just want to get to know her better."

"Of course you do." Combeferre agreed in a way that made her seem like she wasn't agreeing at all. Enjolras growled.

"I'll see you guys later, okay?" Enjolras finally got out, hanging up before they could reply. She spent a second gathering herself before she faced R again. When she opened the door, she saw R in the same hoodie as earlier, but the sweats were traded for jeans and she had stuck an old green beanie over her wild hair. She was smiling, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

"Your friends seem like a riot." She said, and Enjolras grimaced.

"Let's just go, okay?"

* * *

 **This was my first attempt at a Le Mis fic, tell me how it is! I'm gonna continue it, if I have the willpower. Hope you guys like it!**


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